


This Shadow Of Death

by KyeAbove



Series: The Reinforcement Of Agony AU [26]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: Despite all the now petty seeming complaints, everything had been alright at Joey Drew Studios.That is, until someone died there.





	This Shadow Of Death

~June 9th, 1933~

* * *

 

It had been a heart attack.

Francis was older then the other animators. Hired because he didn't mind the last minute clean ups to the animation all the younger animators fretted and complained over. He was the only one who never seemed to have a complaint about Joey Drew. Even Henry, Joey’s most devoted friend, could be found whispering in corners about the grief of working for that man.

Maybe it was that kindness that caused Joey to hole up in his office whenever he could. Joey had offered to pay for the funeral, and also pay forward the rest of Francis’s salary for the year to his family. Even Grant couldn't get into the office to yell at him for that. There was an impression that Grant didn't particularly want to yell at Joey for a kindness, despite the hit to the budget.

No one could think straight with Francis gone. Vernon tried and tried to get the little demon's horns right for this frame, but every time, his pencil tip broke, or the line was off, and he had to toss the page aside. His whole body shook, along with his hands. No good for an animator, or any grieving friend.

“It’s not fair…” Timmy said from his station, not far from Vernon's. Timmy wasn't even bothering to pretend he could work in his grief. Timmy’s work space was bare, and his hands, nails bitten to the fingertips, were free of a pencil.

“The good Lord decided it was his time. We must accept that.” It would take time, but they could. Slowly they’d shift from mourning to remembering.

“He was fine. Then suddenly…poor Bette. Has anyone gotten to her? Finding a corpse is no easy thing to forget.” Timmy thought of the tiny saxophone player he'd grown up with. Bette, who always brought food from home when her husband couldn't eat another bite, and always tried to be kind, even when she received a turned cheek. Bette was only working in the orchestra temporarily until her husband find work. Then the couple could have children. Timmy wanted nothing more for Bette’s happiness, and this could ruin everything.

“I heard she hasn't come in since the day. We could send her a gift basket. Wouldn't make up for anything, but…” Vernon tapped his pencil on his desk.

“I know. It would be a sweet gesture all the same.” Timmy looked down at his empty work space. He contemplated actually working, but he’d been casting glances at Vernon, and his lover's agitated work had put off Timmy from his own more than anything.

The two men were caught in awkward silence, neither unable to think of what else to say. It captured the mood around Francis.

Vernon took another piece of paper from the stack. Before another mangled line could be drawn, Vernon and Timmy heard a knock on the door frame. They turned to see Ollie Wells, a character designer.

“Mister Drew is calling a meeting.” Ollie said, and Timmy couldn't help but notice how red his eyes were, as he no doubt had been crying. If the rumors Ollie fancied Francis’s daughter were true, Ollie was certainly going through a different kind of pain then the rest of them.

“Is it about Francis?” Vernon asked, but he knew he didn't need to. It would certainly be the matter of discussion.

“I assume so. But all I heard is that he has something important to talk about.” Ollie leaned against the doorframe. “No doubt something we won’t agree with. Mister Cohen looked like he was going to explode when he passed the word around.”

“That can't be good.” Vernon guessed. 

“It never is.” Timmy pointed out, pushing his chair away from his desk. “But it has to be better than just sitting here unable to do a thing.”

“Amen to that.”

Vernon, Timmy, and Ollie had no idea then that Francis's death was only the beginning of something even uglier. Something that would leave them better off dead. The animators were used to ink, and they were already stuck in a dark, bleak blackness. But this would be a step below.


End file.
